


Just another game of pool

by troubleseeker



Series: kinktober 2017 [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Bets, Drinking, Drunken sex, Eye bleach for Sammy, Frottage, Grinding, M/M, Pool, Rutting, being drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 07:14:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13289775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troubleseeker/pseuds/troubleseeker
Summary: Kinktober day 9 - Asphyxiation | Lingerie |FrottageIt started out innocently enough. Bragging about how much they could drink. Then bragging about their pool table skills.





	Just another game of pool

It started out innocently enough. Bragging about how much they could drink. Then bragging about their pool table skills.

“I’ve been earning spending money with pool since I was twelve, man. I can outplay anyone, even with a couple of drinks in me.”

“It’s all about angels.” Ash shot back, pointing at his head with just a slight wobble to his hand. “I’m great with angels.”

“Yeah, but you can’t do math when you’re drunk.”

Sam had left them alone quickly after they started calling out the number of shots they’d be willing to take before starting a game. Mumbling something about needing sleep more than he needed to witness a train wreck. Dean had called him a couple of choice names as he retreated.

Eventually, they settled on nine.

They set out the shots. Eighteen thimble size glasses in a line.

Then they had to settle on which alcohol they used.

“Whiskey. Duh.”

“I’m not stupid enough to take eighteen shots worth of whiskey from behind Ellen’s bar.”

“Fine.” Dean agreed quickly. He didn’t have the cash on him to pay up himself. “What else is there?”

Ash was strategic. Picking and choosing different liquors to pour two or four shots till all eighteen glasses were full.

“Ok. So you picked the booze. Which one do we start with?”

Ash shrugged, grabbed a shot, and started chugging. Dean kept up, wincing at a couple of the harsher ones. Once all the glasses were empty, Ash opened up a can of beer and took a delicate sip.

“Settles the stomach.”

Dean shot him an incredulous look.

“Yeah, whatever. Time to lose at some pool.”

Ash grabbed one of the cues, and arranged the balls on the green table.

“Best out of three?”

Dean picked out his own cue.

“Sure. You’re going down by the way.”

The first game went to Ash, even though his shots were distinctly more wobbly nearing the end.

The second game went to Dean. Not that Ash was missing a lot of his shots.

“Want a beer?”

Dean eyes Ash suspiciously.

“Yeah sure, why not. I’m winning the last one anyway.”

They clinked cans, drinking leisurely as they collected the colourful balls. Their conversation switching between the best way to scam credit cards, to which monster they’d hated hunting the most. Three beers each later, Dean took the first shot.

Two pocketed balls later, Dean was lining up his cue when Ash pressed up behind him.

“Your ass looks great when you bend over like that, you know?”

Dean snorted, arched his hips into Ash, and took a perfect shot. The blue ball neatly landing in the far pocket.

“Course I do. Anything that helps distract a mark.”

Ash nodded sagely, watching Dean miss the next ball. Twirling his cue like a baton, he marched to the other side of the table and eyed it with glassy eyes.

“Too bad I’m not distracted.”

Dean swore with a smile plastered across his drunken face, then shrugged his flannel off of his shoulders.

Ash barely hit the cue ball. After staring at his wrecked shot, he glared at Dean.

“What? I’m warm.”

“Just take your turn.”

Apart from a drunken slur, there was no heat in Ash’s voice. And Dean wriggled his ass just a bit more than he usually would.

The game devolved from there. Both were missing shots more often than they landed any good hits, trading off turns like a pair of rookies. They were however, having fun.

Dean by being outrageously flirty, and Ash by watching him.

“We should totally have another shot.”

Ash slurred. Waltzing back to the bar and avoiding every table, chair, and stool by sheer coincidence.

Dean followed him with eyes only. It was his turn, and he only needed one reaaaally good shot to win this.

“Whiskey.”

He called over his shoulder, burping as he squinted and tilted his head sideways as if that would lift the alcohol induced haze.

“Whiskey. Whiskey. Whiskey.”

Ash clinked through the array of bottles until he landed on the correct one.

“Got it!”

Dean looked back to see Ash throw back a glass of amber coloured liquid without any problem. They’d both been sufficiently numbed by booze that nothing burned anymore. Hiccoughing once, he glared at the glass as he filled it again, the pouring spout flirting dangerously with the edge.

“Whiskey!”

He proclaimed proudly as he handed it over to Dean, who promptly threw it back. Cracking his neck, he lined up his cue. Only to swear, and tug at his t-shirt.

“’s too warm in here, man.”

Ash smiled lazily, closing one eye and taking in the pool table.

“No one holding you back.”

Dean made a soft ‘huh’ sound. Looking around the bar to make sure they really were still alone. Finding it clear – no Sammy barging in with new information – he pulled off his shirt, palming his necklace a couple of times as he enjoyed the newfound coolness.

“I’m so going to win this.” He murmured confidentially to Ash. “I only need one more ball, and you need three.”

Ash looked at his three held up fingers and gave a long blink as he nodded, then gestured grandly at the table.

“She’s all yours.”

“All mine.”

It took a while for Dean to line up his cue, the white ball seemed to have gone missing. And by the time he’d relocated it, he realized Ash had walked up behind him, and started undoing his belt and fly.

“’s cheating.”

“Is not. You’re the one who’s been flaunting it all night.”

“Pshh. Lightweight.”

Dean tried to focus on the game again, but it was a bit more difficult with Ash dragging his pants down.

“Shit.”

Ash had pulled down his boxers too, nose buried in between his cheeks at once.

“Did you miss the shot yet?”

Dean was gripping his cue with white knuckled hands, leaning forward to give Ash better access to his ass.

“Shut up.”

Ash hummed, licking long stripes across Dean’s hole.

Breathing deep, Dean forced himself to concentrate and shoot. He landed it. The ball dipping neatly into the middle left pocket.

He’d won.

“Two out of three. I won.”

Ash resurfaced, chin slick.

“No way.”

“Yes way.

Standing up – Dean complaining about his suddenly chilly behind – Ash stared at the table.

“Damn.”

Grinning triumphantly, Dean grabbed the table and jumped high enough to sit down on the edge.

“What do I win?”

“Another shot?” Ash offered questioningly.

Dean tilted his head back, legs kicking at his loose jeans. Eventually some sense of self preservation won out, and he shook his head.

“Naah. Had enough.”

Ash squinted at Dean till his eyes slipped shut, jolting awake again when he started tipping over.

“You need to win something.”

Making up his mind, he stepped forward, and pushed Dean back till he flailed and let Ash lay him down, an iron grip on the other man’s sleeves. Amazingly steady, Ash climbed up onto the table after him, pulling at Dean’s already sagging jeans.

Blinking lazily, Dean let Ash work. Mind hazy, he arched his back and got comfortable. Or as comfortable as you could get on a pool table. Batting the last balls out of the way, and scrabbling back till the edge of the table wasn’t digging in anywhere.

Jeans out of the way, Ash stripped down in record time. Sleeveless vest and shirt dropping on a table further back, and pants kicked off with his shoes.

Still determined, he straddled Dean’s prone frame; settling neatly on top of Dean’s crotch. Both men were beyond drunk, but it didn’t take much stroking to get them both hard.

Ash did most of the work. Being the winner, Dean just lay back, folded his arms under his head, and watched. Watched, and panted, as Ash started grinding his lanky hips against him.

There was no way either of them had enough brain cells left between them to manage lube and condoms, so they’d have to settle for plain old friction.

Too drunk to remain stable sitting up, Ash leaned forward and propped himself up on both hands next to Dean’s head. Hips working in a nearly steady rhythm, both men slowly advanced towards completion.

There was no dirty talk. Just grunts and groans and panting breaths. Ash's hands were occupied, but Dean’s were on a mission. Groping at exposed skin, tugging at Ash's necklaces to bring him down into sloppy alcoholic kisses, and grabbing tightly at a skinny waist to push them together more firmly.

Fuelled by inebriated hormones, they rutted toward an orgasm. It took them a while. Working up a sweat before getting close. Luckily, the haze of alcohol masked the passage of time. Everything melting together in a long breath of pleasure.

Somehow, they both came near simultaneously. Gasping, eyes firmly shut and hands groping for support as their muscles locked and spasmed.

Ash collapsed on top of Dean, managing to roll partly to the side before falling asleep. Dean blinked at the ceiling, breathing deeply and mumbling about water before his eyes too slipped shut, and sleep claimed him.

\----------------------------------------------------

Sam walked into the bar bright and early, pretty sure he’d have to collect his brother’s drunken body before the place opened. Ellen had been kind to let them stay, it didn’t seem like good manners to make her deal with Dean’s drunken ass in thanks.

Eyes adjusting to the dimly lit room, he looked towards the bar. Fully expecting to find Dean slumped over it, he was surprised to find Jo already up, sitting on the polished wood, staring at something off to the side with a mixed expression.

“Jo? Have you seen De_"

As he asked, Sam followed Jo’s gaze, and pretty much mimicked her expression. Perhaps his eyes held more horror, and less intrigue than Jo’s, but the surprised confusion was present in both faces as they took in the scene on the pool table.

Ash was draped across Dean like a mullet wearing blanket, one foot dangling off the table. Both still violently naked.

“Oh come on.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to come yell at me on [tumblr](http://ryugarika.tumblr.com/) ... feel free to, I can take it.
> 
> Comments feed me!


End file.
